A Lesson in Parenting
by Faylinn Night
Summary: On Mother's Day, Bulma leaves Bra in the hands of Vegeta for the very first time. He learns that taking care of a baby doesn't have to be all bad, but trails are inevitable, as he soon finds out. FatherDaughter bonding fun. ::COMPLETE::


**********Author's Note:** So...my trend seems to be one fanfiction a year, lol. Sorry for any of your that actually care. I just roll whenever inspiration hits. Please, enjoy Faylinn's 2012 work! If you have any suggestions for future stories you would like to see, don't hesitate to send me a message. C:

******Disclaimer:** I do not own anything related to the Dragon Ball world since I am not Toriyama Akira. Last I checked.

* * *

**A Lesson in Parenting**

"Oh…?

"Was that really such a safe idea?"

"I know_ I_ wouldn't leave that ruffian with something so precious!"

Without so much as a flinch, Bulma Briefs lifted a hand for silence amongst her chattering friends as she elegantly sipped a cup of specialty coffee. Dark humor twisted her pretty face into a smirk when she removed the porcelain piece from her painted lips, though it was obvious the motion had been more for acting than true menace. Azure eyes gleaming with mischief, the teal-haired beauty allowed the females to wait in anticipation just a few moments longer before actually speaking, "I don't think you guys give Vegeta enough credit. He's a capable man. This is his second child, so everything should just come to him…naturally."

"Sure, naturally." Android 18 seemed to be on the verge of laughter, albeit only slightly. Bulma watched with a Cheshire grin as the android repositioned her own cup on a rose-glazed saucer before scoffing.

Despite a defensive need to glare at the blonde for displaying such offhandedness towards her mate's credibility, Bulma continued on beat with the conversation, "Honestly, you guys. Chi-Chi, didn't you ever leave Son-kun alone to tend to Gohan?"

"Once. When I was young and naive," Chi-Chi replied. A shadow glazed over her dark eyes as memories clouded her reeling mind. "By the end, he handed Gohan back to me, saying he didn't know what to do. Afterwards, I continued to watch them both. Carefully."

"Son-kun couldn't have been _that_ bad," Bulma chuckled.

A tense silence followed then, broken only when the Son wife chose to speak up, voice dry, "Babies are unable to eat steak. Goku-sa seemed taken aback when I told him this that night…"

"Well, at least Gohan didn't take after his father completely," Videl piped in from her seat crossways of Bulma. She directed an apologetic stare at her mother-in-law to prevent any outbursts. "I mean, he's a little more responsible than Goku-san. I never had to fear leaving him and Pan alone together."

"I didn't _fear_ it," the oldest mother snapped then sighed. "I just…felt like I was raising two children, is all." At Chi-Chi's downcast stare, Bulma pursed her lips in a gesture of pity. She hadn't meant for the conversation to take such a heavy turn. After all, this was their day to forget the past, release all worry, and live in the moment. Chi-Chi needed to remember that.

"At any rate, it's Mother's Day, which is why we're all here at this wonderful café, no? As hard-working females, we _deserve_ a day off!" A sudden slam of Bulma's determined fist ensured she captured the attention of all three women accompanying her. "Our men know this—we defiantly know this— so it's about time to hit the shops." The quartet rose in unison from their seats, as if silently agreeing to an unsaid pact, but one woman did linger behind before asking,

"Ok, I just have one question. How did you get him to agree?" An inquisitive look from Videl had the scientist giggling in the span of a second.

Bulma flashed a playful wink towards the youngest female, saying, "He didn't put up as much of a fight as you would think."

* * *

Curse that woman and her insufferable work! A business meeting? Now? The proud Saiyan Prince had much better things to do with his day then care for the welfare of some brat, even his own. He could be training, honing his skills so they didn't slack to the level of some lower-class scum. Instead, he was anchored to a docile living room by a drooling 18-month-old toddler whose only goal in life seemed to be injecting annoyance into her father's existence. Seriously. If Vegeta so much as twitched the wrong way, she would scream. If his vision adverted from her, she would scream. If he even scoffed, she would scream. He was tired of the screaming, and at this point desperation had him searching for a solution—any solution—to save his sensitive ears from the vile lungs of his daughter.

Obviously, killing her would be out of the question. What use would it be to thin out the Saiyan bloodline now? While his race will never be what it once was decades ago, that didn't mean the prince lost hope it would continue on nonetheless. Even through means of hybrids. So, that left him with what? Knock her out? Not likely. No doubt the woman would somehow discover what he had done; she possessed disturbing abilities like that (at least when it came to the offspring). He could always leave the child in her crib and train anyways. But then he would probably hear her crying in spite of it all. Yes, even in the Gravity Chamber.

Vegeta sighed. It seemed the only way he would win is if she won. His only problem? Reading children's desires most defiantly wasn't a strong point of his.

"No! No! No!" the toddler whined when the prince turned his head to search a sea of outspread toys for any possible distractions. From the plush pillow she sat on, the female hybrid clenched her little fingers into tight fists then began to beat them against her sides, as if her father's attention didn't deserve to be anywhere but on her. Only when Vegeta gave up his vain hunt did she cease her vocal objection.

"_What_ do you _want_ from me, _brat_?" the father seethed through clenched teeth. His patience had grown while living on Earth, but not that much.

The child replied in her own language of gurgles and butchered words. Of course in her mind she made sense, so when Vegeta didn't respond in the slightest to her statement, her striking blue eyes darkened with some foreboding emotion. Vegeta about panicked at this site, knowing full well the gravity of the tantrum that would likely follow. He had seen them several times before, yet never once when Bulma wasn't within immediate contact range.

By alarmed instinct, the father used his super speed to brace his calloused hands under his child's arms and lift her into the air before a sound could be uttered. Whether it was the shock of being moved so fast or not, the toddler remained quiet for several moments. Several very long moments. At one point Vegeta thought maybe he had snapped her brain stem; however, her Ki energy remained steady and her tiny chest puffed in and out with oxygen. He buried the small pit in his stomach he refused to admit was worry and released a lengthy sigh at what to do next.

Wide blue eyes caught those of stern coal and for the first time since either of his children's birth, Vegeta set aside his egocentric attitude in light of studying the small creature. But just for a moment. Her pale skin was warm and soft to the touch, he could tell even by the brief passing of skin they exchanged. Crying tainted her chubby cheeks a dark red, her little lips trying to decide what they wished to say. Today, her feathered tuffs of teal hair were drawn into small pigtails that bounced like leaves waving in the wind when she would cock her head from one side to the other. The woman had chosen to clothe her in a simple white sundress speckled by sea-green polka dots, no doubt in an attempt to match the hybrid's hair.

Vegeta scoffed at such pettiness. Leave it to the woman to worry about such things, which begged the question: why did he even notice the connection? Ugh! At this, the male growled in annoyance.

Here was his reasoning against meditating on anything other than training. His mind was always led to places he would rather not think about, especially since his time on Earth. Sometimes he disgusted himself.

"Dada."

Bra's light voice brought Vegeta's attention back to his daughter, his natural glare dying ever so slightly. It surprised him, actually, that his show of hostility didn't bring new tears to the toddler's eyes. Wasn't that her gig?

"Dada," she repeated again, this time more clear and assertive, like she was commanding him something. "Dada!"

The prince smirked at the dainty hand she place on his strong chin, but more so at the seriousness she displayed when starring him down like a predator. "So, you do have royal blood coursing through your veins, don't you?"

As a reply, Bra released a small huff, brows furrowed.

"Well, at least you hold your ground better than your brother ever did," Vegeta noted grimly. He shook his head at the thought of his infant son crying when the father so much as glanced at him. Ridiculous boy.

Another giggle erupted from Bra's throat, which warranted a raised eyebrow from her father.

"So, you find me funny only when I have you face to face?"

The toddler cheered.

"Perfect…"

He didn't have all day to hold a child in his arms. To be honest, the action felt awkward more than anything since he didn't often handle something so fragile. Usually, the woman attended their offspring's every need. As the female, it was her place to do so, but she would always argue with him on that point. Stubborn woman.

"Oh-pee."

Vegeta frowned when Bra took back her hand, her face beginning to turn a bright shade of red. What manner of action was this?

"Oooh-pee," she spoke again with strain. It was obvious she was struggling for something, but what?

Vegeta brought the teal-haired babe closer to his scowling face, saying, "Speak fluently, child."

The prince's reply consisted of nothing more than Bra's scrunched red face and trembling form. Her cheeks began to puff out and not long after all tension in her little body seemed to vanish in a second. Puzzled, Vegeta eyed his daughter for answers as to what had happened, and soon enough he found just that. The moment a putrid smell entered his nostrils, the Saiyajin gagged unbelievable hard. It came so sudden, so unexpectedly, that he almost dropped his child.

"Girl," he choked out as soon as he recovered, "I have eradicated alien species across the universe, but not one of their rotting corpses matches the vile stench of your excrement."

Bra cooed at first then began to cry. Apparently, she couldn't stand the smell of her dirty bottom either. Vegeta cursed a long line of colorful curses in his native tongue, cringing at his daughter's fit while looking for something very important.

"Where is that blasted communication device?"

* * *

"Just change her," Bulma laughed in a matter-of-fact tone. She wasn't at all fazed at her mate's heated voice or threatening growls. "No, I'm not coming home just because she needs a diaper change…It'll be fine, you can do it! …Look, I got to go; the girls are waiting on me. See you when I get home, bye!" The woman flipped her cell phone closed before the mighty Saiyan got a chance to reply (or rather, curse her out). The company she kept sent her looks of intrigued puzzlement, and she smiled at them, saying, "Lesson one in parenting: learn by doing."

"Have you even taught him to change a diaper?" Videl inquired.

"Of course!"

"Did he pay attention, that's the question," Chi-Chi added with a shake of her head.

Bulma giggled. "It's in his memory banks somewhere. Now, let's go look at those gorgeous shoes over there!"

* * *

Fierce black orbs glared at the telephone with such menace, one would have assumed it somehow insulted the prince. In the background a small girl wailed in discomfort, but Vegeta remained in his loathing trance until she raised her voice several octaves. Walking from the kitchen towards the toddler spread on her back on the living room floor, the male observed the scene with exasperated annoyance. What was he supposed to do? He had never changed a youth's undergarments before. Besides, she smelled absolutely sordid.

"Whaaa!"

"Alright child! Cease your insalubrious noise making!"

The prince, however, only succeeded in making Bra cry harder. Frowning, Vegeta kneeled below the little girl. His eyes drifted from her red face to her flailing legs, which would kick him, hard, every time he attempted to grasp the sides of her diaper. After several moments, the male finally got a hold of her little ankles with one hand and limited her movement long enough for him to gather his thoughts on what to do next. As if he were about to receive a Ki blast to the face at any given moment, the Saiyajin inhaled deep and held his breath as he tore the diaper off with more force than necessary. The result was less than pretty.

Vegeta deadpanned.

Bulma better be giving him something good after all of this.

"Nu-uh!"

Vegeta growled at his daughter then placed another item in front of her.

"No!" she pouted.

Again, he placed another item in front of her, and she shook her head.

"Uh-uh!"

"What is it you _want_, child?"

The Saiyan Prince was near his wits end by this point. After the changing fiasco, he attempted to put Bra asleep for his own sanity, but she wouldn't have it. Sleep and food were a youngling's main needs, yes? So, when sleep failed, naturally he turned to food. He presented her with all means of vegetables, meats, and fruits; however, none of them appealed the girl. Why?

Vegeta had half a mind to call Bulma again. And he would have, had he not thought of what those hackling females accompanying her would think. No doubt they would assume he was ignorant or helpless. He was nothing of the sort! So, he took his chances at deducing Bra's needs on his own, which proved to be one of the biggest challenges of his life. The passing thought of being back in time and fighting Buu again crossed his mind. At least then he would know where he stood.

"No," Bra whined. A faint rumbled reached Vegeta's ears and he scowled.

"It's quite evident you are hungry, so why do you refuse this meal?"

Annoyed blue eyes about narrowed at their father, reminding him more to his mate rather than his daughter. He was clearly missing something important.

"_What_?" he inquired.

Bra shook her head, slow. Somehow, that action ticked Vegeta off even more than her screaming.

"_Very well_. Feed yourself!" With a gruff huff the prince spun on a heated heel to exit the kitchen. No matter what, he always seemed to lose when it came to his children, and now the little brat had the nerve to act as if _she_ were more mature? If she were anything of the sort then certainly she could tell him what he needed to do!

"Dada? Cah-m?"

Vegeta paused short of exiting the living room. Bra's voice had lost its whining bossiness and had since been replaced by bewildered uncertainty. It was as if she were asking him, 'Why are you leaving me alone, Daddy? Please stay.' He wanted to say her tone unfazed him, he really did, but the fact remained that it did. When she called out to him again, the Saiyan had already turned around and headed back towards the kitchen. This time he approached the girl with a more relaxed demeanor. He was rewarded with a light smile and the offering of a purple fruit he had placed before her not five minutes ago. Confused at first, Vegeta had to wait for Bra to begin gnawing on the fruit's hide before he registered it was what she wished to eat. He fetched a knife from the counter behind him then began to cut the fruit into manageable slices, which the child happily mashed in her mouth.

"I see now," the man mused several minutes later when he joined his daughter in eating. "You are not yet strong enough to eat whole food."

Bra flashed him a coy smile of gums and very few teeth before rubbing her eyes with a dirty hand. Pieces of fleshy-orange fruit stuck to nearly every inch of the girl like she had rolled in her food rather than ate it. And so his next task had already been determined.

"Come, girl."

Vegeta said nothing more as he plucked the toddler from her high-chair and proceeded to the bathroom without so much as glancing at the kitchen mess.

Bath time went far smoother than Vegeta had expected. Bra was obedient and seemed to enjoy the fact that for once her father was the one to wash her. At one point he even joined her since he figured it would be like killing two birds with one stone. Never mind the fact that his daughter had already soaked him within five minutes of being placed in the shallow water.

When the hybrid was finally free of all stickiness, the prince attempted to dry her off. However, it seemed Bra preferred to make everything a game. Every time he would try to wrap her in a towel, she would find a way out and attempt to flee to other parts of the house, giggling all the while. Sure, the father possessed the physically power to force her dry, but he got the feeling that if he did, she would be pushed into a fit of rage. Rage equaled screaming. And he had heard enough screaming today to last him a lifetime.

"Girl, come get dry," the prince's commanding voice held an undertone of pleading, which Bra seemed to sense.

The blue-haired toddler ceased her crawling and sat her bare bottom on the bedroom's carpeted floor while studying her father. He kneeled on one knee beside the king-sized bed, hair still heavy with water and arms outstretched with a plush towel. She mauled over one last thought in her mind before deciding playtime was over. Vegeta repressed a sigh of relief when his daughter crawled over to him. Without skipping a beat, he bent down to swallow the girl in the giant towel he held. He gently dried her off then set her naked self down on his bed.

"Stay," he instructed her before leaving the room. He sauntered down the hall to Bra's room in order that he may grab a new change of clothes for his daughter and promptly returned to his sleeping quarters, only to find the little girl passed out in the middle of his bed. She had curled into the fetal position without any regards to being covered, and Vegeta found himself staring at her sleeping face, which was already twitching with dreams. He shook his head a few moments later, cursing his softness, then proceeded to dress his offspring in a new diaper and pale pink sleeping gown. Never once did she stir.

"So much like her mother," he noted after completing his mission. He reclined on the bed and permitted a hand to stroke the girl's soft cheek, like it often did when her mother was asleep. A ghost of a smile played on his lips, which he didn't fight. After all, Vegeta found it far easier to give into such urges when his family was unconscious.

On the outside Bra looked very much like her mother, with those piercing blue eyes and locks of shining teal hair. She was every bit as stubborn—if not more so—and seemed to revel in testing her limits with him. But if the prince learned anything today, it was that on the inside, she was every bit his daughter. Her commands, while maddening, were in fact regal. She seemed to understand him on an empathetic level, albeit just a bit. Certainly more than Trunks ever did at that age. In a way, knowing this comforted him, made him feel less…alone. While he would deny it to anyone but himself, becoming a father and being with Bulma had been the best things to ever happen to him.

He learned a lesson in being such, solitude brought about misery and the drive of a father could be far more devastating than the drive for revenge or self-wanting. Today, he had learned that taking care of a baby didn't have to be all bad. At least not when it came to his princess.

The man lifted his unconscious daughter with care to place her on his chest and soon, his eyes began to droop with sleepiness as well. Maybe a nap wouldn't be so bad. After all, it had been an awfully long day.

* * *

"I'll see you girls later!"

In the warm light of the setting sun Bulma waved her friends good-bye as she entered her air ship. Mother's Day had ended and now each woman was retiring to their homes. The three females flashed one last grin before departing, leaving the Brief woman to manage her luggage alone. Once inside, she set the bags down behind the pilot seat with a satisfied nod. Yes, she had managed to make it through the day without buying more than intended. How controlled of her! She couldn't wait to return home and show off what she had gotten to Vegeta. One or two things in particular she got the feeling he would like.

Speaking of which. Bulma dug into her brand-name purse to retrieve her cell phone. She flipped it open, intent on checking for any missed calls. When none showed up though, she blinked in amazement. She had half expected to see several dozen listings, courtesy of her lovely mate of course. But here she was at the end of the day with not one missed call.

It was pleasing and worrying at the same time. While she had prepared herself for an onslaught of calls, she hadn't prepared for, well, nothing. She wouldn't have picked up every time the prince rung, mind you, but at least it would have been reassurance that he tried. He didn't give up, did he? No, he was too stubborn for that.

"Guess I'll go see what he's been up to," the woman chimed. She buckled up and several moments later she took off into the orange sky.

Since they shopped somewhat locally in West City, it didn't take long for Bulma to reach Capsule Corporation. Her air craft landed with a soft thud on the lawn's grass and slowly wound down until its engines became quiet. Bulma descended on a ramp, bags in tow, to enter the house through the kitchen door. She almost dropped her load at the site inside. It was as if Vegeta emptied the entire contents of the fridge and cabinets!

Sighing, the woman took care to avoid the food splattered on the floor and shook her head at the lunch meat sitting on the counter. Please say Vegeta had more common sense than to feed meat to a toddler. What would she say to Chi-Chi?

The rest of the house proved to be a mess, as expected, but the kitchen and living room appeared to be the true victims as far as she could tell. Bulma had set her new things beside the couch so she could easily find the duo in mind; however, they were nowhere in sight on the first floor. She tried Bra's room next, all to no avail.

"Our room, I guess," she muttered while walking into the hall again. No sooner did she enter the master bedroom did a large smile grace her aging face. Vegeta lay on his back with Bra slumbering on his barrel of a chest. They breathed slow steady breathes together that Bulma couldn't help but adore. The site was precious, one she didn't wish to see end, and so she would leave them be for now. When he wakes up, the woman would reward her man for all his hard work today with her special Mother's Day gift.

Until then, where was her camera?


End file.
